


Dinner at the Hoffersons

by SheisaCShelz



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Genre: Astrid's Cooking, F/M, Humor (well I thought it was funny anyway)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:52:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheisaCShelz/pseuds/SheisaCShelz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AKA, How Much Hiccup Loves Astrid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner at the Hoffersons

Edna Hofferson had thought it would be fine.  Astrid excelled in everything she did, and to top it off, she was _her_ daughter.  Of _course_ Astrid could pull off a formal dinner.  It was nothing.

Her eyes widened, forefinger still attached to her tongue, as Astrid unwrapped the fish and, humming in satisfaction, set it over the coals to stay warm.  The spread of dishes and food was immense, but then again, so was a Viking’s appetite, and given the fact that they would have four full-grown Vikings, three adolescents, and one child, Edna had been the one to suggest they make triple portions of everything.

She turned her wide-eyed look on her oblivious daughter, the taste of the sauce still ripe on her tongue.  Oh, Thor.  She had never regretted anything as much as she regretted that suggestion.  Except possibly setting up the dinner in the first place.

She took a deep breath to say something-

Someone gave their door a few solid **knock-knocks**  (it went something more like **THUD-THUD** ) and her stomach fell into the pit of her stomach.

Astrid brightened.

Edna was quickly realizing that what she had thought would be a pleasant, perhaps even celebratory evening, was quickly going south.  Fast.

“STOICK!” her husband boomed, welcoming the chief in with open arms.  “And Hiccup!”  He mock-squinted.  “You’re shootin’ up like a weed, boy.  Good to see you!”

Hiccup had indeed finally hit his growth spurt; his head reached his father’s shoulder, but his girth was still absolutely nonexistent.  Her husband’s hefty pat nearly threw him over and the boy laughed nervously as he righted himself, rubbing his arm self-consciously.

But there were more pressing matters-

“Hi, Chief Stoick,” Astrid’s voice drifted from the front of the house.  Edna stared at the spread, horrified.   “Hi, Hiccup.”

“A-Astrid!  Hi, Astrid, hello…Astrid.”

Leif laughed, guiding the chief in by his arm.  “I hope you came with an appetite!”

Suddenly, this seemed like a terrible, terrible idea.

“Astrid’s been in the kitchen all day, preparing a feast for us!  I swear, she was in there this morning before I got up and she was still there when I got back!  ERIK!  Get in here, lad!  Your sister’s worked hard to pull all this together!”

“COMING, DAD!  GIVE ME A MINUTE!”

Edna was still staring desperately – _not enough time to make it new, can’t greet them and cook at the same time, ASTRID_ – when her son’s head, complete with log chips in his disheveled blonde hair, appeared in the doorway, looking about as horrified as she felt.

_“You let her cook?!”_

Edna turned to him.  _“You knew she couldn’t?!”_

His mouth fell open.  _“You DIDN’T??”_

“ERIK!” Leif roared.

Edna’s hands rose to her cheeks.

“Edna?  Where are you?  The Chief’s here!”

“C…Coming!” she called back.

There was nothing she could do.

She smiled as pleasantly as she could as she walked out.  Boarstooth was already seated at the table, playing with his knife.  Erik looked pale but grinned at their guests nonetheless, laughing jovially along with the other adult men.

And Holg looked sullen.  Two years older and still without anything that even faintly resembled a love life, although not for lack of trying, the almost-adult was understandably upset about Astrid’s boyfriend.  Edna even noticed he was wearing his special tooth necklace, the one that still had the gums attached.  Edna sent him a reproving glance as she took her seat next to her husband.

Leif was still talking animatedly with Stoick, blessedly ignorant of what was about to happen.

“I made a special soup for the first course!” Astrid announced cheerfully from the doorway, all seven bowls balanced effortlessly on her arms.

“One for you…and one for you…here you go, Dad…Chief…Hiccup…Boarstooth…and Mom.”

Edna raised an eyebrow.  “Astrid, dear, what about you?”

“Yeah!” Erik agreed enthusiastically.  “Come on, you must be hungry!”

Astrid waved their concerns away.  “Please, I’m the hostess.  I have to man the kitchen and I ate earlier anyway.  Just enjoy the first course, okay?  Go on!  Try it,” she urged.

She urged _Hiccup_ , to be precise.  She was, not quite lovestruck (Vikings were never lovestruck)…but she really wanted this to work out.  Her eyes shimmered with excitement.

Hiccup smiled back, still nervous, before raising his spoon with a little salute and dipping it into his bowl.

His eyes widened.

Astrid looked delighted.

The air was heavy with suspense.  Eventually Hiccup swallowed, mouth twitching before it pulled up into a smile.  He swallowed again.

“This…is…delicious!”

It was the closest Astrid ever came to squealing.  She grinned in victory as she twirled around and reentered the kitchen, appearing again in an instant with a basket of bread that she immediately offered to the chief and his son.

The soup was, in fact, horrendous.  And the bread was drier than 50-year old yak meat.  And the haddock made rotten codheads sound appealing.  The chicken dish resembled rocks fit for a Gronkle.

Boarstooth was long gone, excused from the table as soon as the adults realized that the fish would be even less edible than the soup.  Erik had picked at his food before suddenly remembering a date he had set up with the boys.  Holg had simply refused to eat and stayed only to leer at Hiccup, arms crossed and slumped in his seat.

Night had fallen long ago, and the adults’ conversation had run its course.  The table was deadly silent except for the sounds of Hiccup chewing, chicken crunching like metal between his teeth.  The adults stared at the black crumbs that fell onto his plate.

“Would anyone like some more bread?  There’s plenty left,” Astrid encouraged from his side.

Hiccup smiled as he reached into the basket she held.  “Why, thank you, milady.”  He tried to tear it apart with his molars, looking like a Terror in a tug of war over a fish.

He chewed it for about three full minutes and Astrid beamed as he washed it down with some water.

“Dessert!” the eager girl called.

The trapdoor to freedom was finally wide open.  Hiccup groaned.  “Astrid, did you see how much I just ate?  I’m not going to be eating for days after this!”

“Oh, come on, Hiccup,” she scoffed, giving him a playful nudge.  “You’re a teenage Viking!  And, I made it just for you!” she beamed again.

Thor, that _smile_ …Astrid never got this excited, about anything.  Ever.  The formidable force known as Hiccup’s Will started to crack.

“Well…I guess there’s always room for dessert…”

“You’ll love it!” Astrid promised, disappearing once again.

There was a bit of a pause.

Leif cleared his throat awkwardly, certain that openly gawking at the younger of their two guests was a special event no-no, but unsure of what to say.  He didn’t know whether to apologize, to wait to apologize out of Astrid’s earshot, or sing a ballad to Stoick’s son and his cast iron stomach.

He looked to Edna for help, but she merely kept her head down, refusing to do anything besides stare unseeingly at her plate, lost in thought – or nausea.  He wasn’t quite sure.

“So!” Stoick started, abruptly tearing his fascinated gaze away from Hiccup.  A little bit of the generous leftover portion of chicken on his plate crumbled.  His hands were cupped around his tankard – which Astrid had filled at least twice.  “So…uh…thank you so much for inviting us, Leif.  It was really great, and-“

“Our pleasure,” Leif answered, who had had no less than three refills himself.  When trying times came, a Viking could live off of mead alone.  His eyes stole away to glance at Hiccup, who was still finishing off his bread, tankard still nearly full.  “We’re so glad you…enjoyed it.  It’s great seeing you outside of work and – **_ASTRID, what IS that?!_ ”**

Astrid grinned, holding the steaming mug out to Hiccup.  “You didn’t finish, father, so you don’t get any,” she answered smugly.  “Only Hiccup gets some.”

While Astrid smiled beatifically at her misunderstood parents, Hiccup peaked into the mug, face paling.  His look of utter despair said it all – Hel was coming for him herself.

That evening, as Stoick finally headed in the vague direction of the door, Leif staggering just slightly next to him, they heard a muffled ‘mmpf!’ and the definite sound of, well, a smooch coming from the porch

Then they heard a couple of pecks…another surprised exclamation, although this one was a bit higher in pitch.

Both men paused at the threshold.  Stoick looked at Leif.

Leif looked at the door.  On the one hand, the idea of any punk who had the GALL to make out with _his daughter_ …any other night, Leif would have charged out there like an enraged bull, huffing and stampeding over that rotten, pug-nosed ape.

It didn’t matter that he had the beginnings of a headache and his mouth tasted awful.  And his stomach was starting to hurt.  And he was pretty sure he couldn’t run.

Vikings were _tough_.  Vikings were _stubborn_.

The headache started to throb nauseatingly and he flinched at the flickering light from the lanterns.

“…The boy earned a little sugar tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> I admit, I didn't do my research, but I'm pretty sure some cultures used to test/show off the bride's domestic skills by hosting a formal dinner for the potential in-laws. And as unlikely as it is that real Vikings did this, I could picture it happening in the HTTYD universe. With less lace and extravagance, of course. And a lot more stomach aches...  
> They should stop that tradition. Really.


End file.
